


Batjokes one shots

by khenq



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types, The LEGO Batman Movie (2017)
Genre: Angst, Domestic Fluff, Gen, How Do I Tag, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2018-11-29 00:37:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 9,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11429541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khenq/pseuds/khenq
Summary: Here I will pile all my one-shots that are based on prompts by lego-batjokes-prompts on Tumblr. They'll range from fluff, to angst, to crack and everything in between. If a warning for any of the chapters is necessary, it will be put in the beginning of the work.Depending on the feel of the prompt, characterization may vary, meaning that some will be Lego verse, whereas others will fit the comics or movies better.





	1. Wait, what?

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt #8: "Why is it that there aren't any good fast food places open at two in the morning?”  
> Warning: abuse of power, aka Arkham isn't a very nice place. Nothing graphic, only mentioned, but beware.  
> What was characterization again?  
> Also posted on my Tumblr, khenq.

Joker wasn't having much fun.

Or rather, any at all.

The higher-ups had tightened security in Arkham, for the first time ever, proving that they are not as obtuse as they usually appeared. Good thing for Gotham, bad thing for the inmates.

Joker had been stuck in there for a month now, or was it two? Either way, he was sick and tired of that place.

He had never been particularly fond of the food there, but he drew the line when they started putting drugs in it too. A practice they started a week before his escape.

'God, I would kill for a sandwich. Or a salad. Or a pizza. Anything, really,’ thought the Joker to himself as he jumped from rooftop to rooftop, trying to find someplace to eat. Or a house that seemed to have food in it, he wasn't picky.

Naturally, his luck betrayed him yet again.

The Batman had found him. Which would have been fine, if the trickster weren't so hungry. And if the vigilante weren't about to send him back in good ol’ Arkham.

Joker managed to dodge yet another his other half, while struggling to make him listen for once. “Okay, look, I know we have had some disagreements throughout the years, I killed a few hundred people, set a lot of fires, and what not but can't we hold this fight off for tomor–”

This time, the Dark Knight had succeeded in catching his opponent unaware, the punch sending the prankster onto the ground.

Who didn't get up immediately, nor did he laugh.

Bruce was getting… worried. This wasn't their usual game. He would roughen up the Joker a bit, the man would simply laugh, and then be carried off to Arkham.

Apprehensively, he crouched down, right next to his greatest adversary.

Unlike what he was worried about, the eccentric man was, in fact, conscious, though his eyes seemed somewhat unfocused. Maybe he had a–

“You didn't give me a concussion Batsy, don't you worry your pretty head. I think I'm gonna lie down here for awhile though, if you don't terribly mind,” uncharacteristically calmly stated the criminal. “I just need a breather.”

That just left the self-proclaimed hero with even more questions. Their fighting has always been like a dance. They both knew the moves, and each other's limits. So far, the Joker's should have been far from reached his threshold. Which meant something must have happened beforehand. But he had escaped barely an hour ago, which meant–

“So, what have they done now,” asked Batman, trying to keep hidden the anger from his voice. It was no secret that the orderlies there had the unfortunate habit of messing up, badly, every single case they ever got, non–stop. Still, Bruce thought they had actually started actually being interested in their patients’ health. A conclusion that was rather obviously proven false.

“Drugs in the food, very sweet of them, it truly is. But I'm just not that type of clown.”

Batman sighed, and, slowly, helped the other to sit up.

“So when had they decided to try this new policy?”

“Oh, no idea, could have been a week ago, maybe two… Actually, scratch that, I wouldn't have been conscious if it had been more than a week, so I'm guessing that's the answer,” sounding as unbothered as anyone can be.

Batman sighed again, his enemy should really be more concerned for his health. His thoughts were interrupted by a question:

“Bats, why is it that there aren't any good fast food places open at two in the morning?”

“You just answered your own question, J.”

“But I'm hungry Batsy, any suggestions?” whined the clown, now comfortably nestled in his crush’s arms, hand winding around the more muscled man's neck.

“Wayne manor. There's plenty of food there,” retorted the vigilante, sending Alfred a text asking him to cook something light.

“Already taking me home Brucie, my, I guess the magazines are right, you do work fast!” cheerfully flirted the clown.

“Wait, for how long have you known me and Wayne are the same person?” Bruce asked indignantly.

“Well, it was either that or roommates. After some thought I figured that option one was more likely. Truly, the only reason it wasn't the first thing that came to my mind is because your day-you seems to have an IQ below minus 150. Now quit your staring, I wanna officially meet the rest of the Bat-fam!”


	2. Please

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on prompts #112 and #182.
> 
> Joker and Bruce have a fight, J has an adverse reaction to the entire conversation.
> 
> Warnings: self-hatred, mental breakdown.
> 
> Also posted on my Tumblr, khenq.

“I hate you!” 

Bruce tried to calm himself down. He didn't mean to say that, but they were fighting, and he was angry. Joker had a way of getting under his skin like nobody else ever had, even when he wasn't trying to.

The tension was running high, and it wasn't just the millionaire that had trouble filtering his words:

“Yeah, well, good, I hate me too!” yelled the clown in response.

Everything seemed to still, the usually cheerful prankster's words sinking in.

The fight left the self-proclaimed vigilantee as he processed them,  
watching his tense, shaking boyfriend attempt to regulate his breathing.

It reminded him of the first time they discussed their relationship.

That day, they had finally gotten together, after years of repressed wishes and desires. But it was also the day the hero had realised just how hurt and afraid Jack was, of himself, of the future, of what would become of them both.

He could see the jokester as if it had happened yesterday – face opened and sincere, eyes looking anywhere but at the man across from him, hands fidgeting and leg bouncing. He could remember what he had said then, word for word: ‘Doesn’t it scare you? Being alone? Being together?’ The clown’s voice had wobbled dangerously. 'I think they're both terrifying, but I don't know which is more terrifying.”

They had both come a long way from then. 

Many things were discussed, names exchanged, they've seen each other not only in their worst, but at their most vulnerable as well.

Bruce had been aware, since the very beginning of their relationship, that his other half was very depriciative of himself. He had thought that he had managed to convince him otherwise.

A few moments of silence passed, only interrupted by the Joker's harsh gasps.

The moment his breathing became calmer, Bruce began to speak:

“Babe,” he started gently, as if trying not to spook an already frightend animal. Maybe in a way he was. “We talked about this.”

The former criminal averted his eyes, staring resolutely at the floor, as if attempting to avoid this conversation just by making himself appear as small as possible.

It broke Bruce's heart to see him like this.

“J,”

“Don't,” begged the clown, voice hoarse. “Please, just, I just can't. Please don't.”

And then he started laughing. It started as a low chuckle, becoming louder and louder, until he was shaking from the cackles, all the while tears were streaming down his face, smudging his make up.

“God, why can't I just be happy? Why are you even with me, I thought you would've gotten tired of dealing with me already–” 

Hearing this, Bruce could keep his distance no longer. He slowly approached Jack, enveloping his trembling body in a hug, quietly whispering in his ear:

“Because I love you J.”


	3. Insomnia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on prompt #25: "I have insomnia, what's your excuse?"  
>  "I just care a lot."
> 
> No warnings for this chapter.
> 
> Also posted on my Tumblr, khenq.

Joker let out a sigh. He must have rolled around over a hundred times now. After five more minutes of shuffling and unsuccessful attempts of calming his seemingly always active mind, he finally gave up on getting any sleep today.

Carefully, as not to wake the person lying next to him, he lifted himself up from the bed and quietly exited from the window and onto the rooftop.

He had always loved this: simply standing on rooftops, observing the view from a new perspective. The city looked beautiful, almost magical from there. A far cry from reality.

The clown knew there was nothing good in immersing oneself with such thoughts, fantasies that never will be. And yet. Sometimes it was nice to image that there was good left in the world.

So focused he was on his musings, he didn't hear the footsteps coming up right behind him, nor the concerned voice calling out his name.

The trickster jumped up, startled by the hand that had suddenly appeared on his shoulder.

“Hey, are you alright?” asked Bruce, voice still heavy with sleep.

Jack looked up at the man and smiling gently, expression clearly showing his love for the man in front of him. An expression only his Batsy got to see.

“I think I should be the one asking you that. I mean, I have insomnia. What's your excuse?” he fired back, jokingly, trying to lighten the melancholic atmosphere that had engulfed them.

The millionaire smiled back tenderly.  
“I just care a lot.”

He slowly sat down, arms wrapping around his boyfriend, who wasted no time pressing himself closer to him, making himself comfortable.

They stayed like this, watching the bustling city in the distance, enjoying each other's warmth.


	4. A Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on prompt #160: "Don't you get it? I'm jealous of you!"
> 
> Warnings: self-hatred, mental breakdown.
> 
> Also posted on my Tumblr, khenq.

“Don't you get it? I'm jealous of you!”

The sentence hung heavy in the sudden silence that engulfed the room, punctured only by the harsh gasps of its two occupants, who were currently locked into a staring match, neither willing to back down. That is, until the clown doubled over in laughter, nearly falling on the ground by the force of the chuckles that run through him.

Batman glared at the Joker, while the man in question attempted to regain his breath. Once he had succeeded in calming down, he looked back up at his nemesis, straightening his clothes up.

“You can't be serious. Did you hit your head too hard sometime soon?” asked the trickster, barely managing to keep himself from chuckling.

“Joker…” growled out the vigilante.

The criminal ignored him, continuing unfazed, “I mean, just what are you jealous of? My wonderful colour scheme? Or is it the madness you find an appealing quality of mine? In all honesty I can't blame you if it's the latter, it certainly makes life more interesting.”

“No.”

“No? Well, then what? There isn't much to me, in fact, there's only the previously mentioned ones!” stated the clown, this time failing at containing his cackling, growing more agitated by the second. He couldn't help himself, this entire thing was just too funny and bizarre. Hell, at this point he wondered if this wasn't some weird drug-induced hallucination.

“No Joker, this is real,” a calm voice interrupted his down spiralling thoughts, making him realise he had spoken out loud. How embarrassing. “And there's plenty of things for me to be jealous about in you.”

The Bat moved closer to him, causing the prankster to stumble back instinctively. 

Bruce froze for a brief moment at the reaction, before continuing, albeit more slowly, hand raised in a placating manner.

As he drew closer, he noticed the subtle trembling of Joker's slight frame.

“You know, I really don't understand what you're saying. Or why. These are not the rules of our dance Batsy, or did you forget your steps?” laughed out the clown, tears gathering but not falling .

As distracted as he was, the trickster hadn't noticed just how close Batman had come, until a glove-clad hand gently grabbed his chin, turning his face up so that they would look into each other’s eyes.

“What if I told you I wanted to change those rules?”


	5. Snake Clowns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on prompt #102:  
> “Look, Batsy! I bought a snake and named it Peanut Brittle! Say ‘Hi’ to our new buddy!”  
> “The. Day. Has. Come.”
> 
> No warnings for this chapter.
> 
> Also posted on my Tumblr, khenq.

Batman, as a general rule, disliked surprises. Some called him a control freak. Personally, he considered himself to be nothing more than cautious.

As it turned out however, he wasn't nearly paranoid enough to prepare for this:

“Look, Batsy! I bought a snake and named it Peanut Brittle! Say ‘Hi’ to our new buddy!”

He could practically feel his brain short-circuit. This couldn't be happening. Except it was.

He really should've expected this, after all, with his clown being involved it would have been more shocking if it hadn't.

“The. Day. Has. Come.”

The trickster looked at him in confusion. “What’d you say?”

Bruce didn't respond, instead he just slowly, not moving his gaze from the snake, moved backwards until his back was pressed against the wall. He started walking sideways, attempting to feel for an exit.

Joker stared at him, face uncharacteristically inexpressive.

That is, until it was split by a gigantic grin. Soon enough, the clown was laughing manically, tears of mirth streaming down his face.

It was the vigilante's turn to stare. What was that about?

His confusion must have showed on his face, as the criminal made an attempt to explain through his giggles:

“Alfie and – Heh he – Barb might have mentioned something's about your fear of 'snake-clowns’.”

He started cackling even louder at his partner's expression of pure betrayal. “See, I didn't quite believe them. So I – Ha Ha – decided to buy a snake and see what happens. Can't say I’m disappointed to be wrong!”

Batman just grumbled throughout the entire explanation, something about 'unfaithful friends’ and 'damnable clowns’.

Once the prankster had managed to regain some form of control over his vocal cords, the millionaire asked, “So you won't be keeping the snake?”

“I wasn't planning to,–”

Bruce felt hope rise in him.

“But now that I've spend some time with it, I've grown attached. I can't just get rid of my little baby!”

The Batman felt crushing disappointment.  
‘This must be how Superman feels when he fails to be cooler than me...’


	6. Once upon a dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on prompt of #58:  
> "Snap out of it Because, they're not real!"
> 
> No warnings for this chapter.
> 
> Also posted on my Tumblr, khenq.

“Bats.”

Bruce felt like he was submerged underwater, the voice calling him sounding distorted and distant.

“Batsy, come on,”

He didn't want to… get up? Wake up?

All he knew was that he wanted to stay where he was. Away from the voice. Not that he had anything against it. He just liked it here. With his parents. They were dining, having watched a play beforehand. It was nice. Domestic.

“Come on, it's time we go Bats,” the voice pleaded with him.

The man felt sorry for whoever it was. They sounded sad. And vaguely familiar, like something from a long forgotten dream.  
It made him ache for reasons he couldn't name.

Instead of focusing at the sudden melancholic feeling, he turned his attention back to his mother and father. They seemed content. It made Bruce feel happy too.

“Snap out of it Bats,” called out the distressed voice.

Snap out of what? It wasn't like he was asleep or anything… Besides, he hasn't visited his parents in so long, he wasn't about to–

“They're not real!”

Oh.

But.

Then what was–

“Bruc–” the voice was abruptly cut off.

The millionaire looked around, dazed.

“Bruce, are you alright?” asked his mother worriedly.

The man in question blinked, once, twice, before replying, “Yes, I'm fine,” all the while his mind was filled of images of a strange man, simultaneously familiar and not, with a wide smile and shockingly green eyes.

His heart ached.


	7. Once upon a nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on prompt #258.  
> Basically 'Once upon a dream', but from Joker's perspective.

“Damn it!” the Joker couldn't help but yell.

He didn't expect for his day to go like this. Though in hindsight, it was one of those times when Batman and he got together to fight a common foe, something which never failed to go spectacularly badly.

So now here they were, two enemies, locked into an underground hideout, with one of them having been knocked out, mumbling deliriously under his breath. The only good thing in this situation was that, at the very least, the Bat didn't seem too agitated. The clown was far too exhausted to handle an angry vigilante right now.

If they wanted to stay alive, they had to get out, fast.

The man they were both after was a serial killer who used a toxin that was a mix between Crane's and Joker's own to lull his victims into some sort of a coma, where it's victims saw who knows what. Naturally, anyone who came in contact with the poison winded up dead in less than three days.

The Batman was after justice, as always.

Joker just wanted to punish the guy, whoever he was, for using his toxin without permission, as well as for being so unforgivably unoriginal.

It should have been simple. But now he had to play nurse for Batman, while simultaneously figuring out how save them from becoming yet another of the 'doctor’s’ experiments.

He could hear the rhythmic sound of steps, coming down the stairway leading to the dungeon.

“Okay Batsy, time to wakey-wakey!”

The Bat didn't seem to have heard him. Nothing unusual.

“Batsy, come on,” persisted the criminal. The unconscious man twitched, as if in recognition, but didn't acknowledge the words otherwise. He just kept mumbling about his parents.

_ ‘Good to know why I'm being stood up.’ _

“Come on, it's time we go Bats,” he continued to plead.

No reaction.

_ 'How rude. Not to mention that he's the one who always insisted that team work is the key to success.' _

“Snap out of it Bats.”

The steps were coming closer.

The Joker felt laughter bubbling up, but managed to swallow it down.

_ 'Fight, damn it! How do I know I'm worth enough to you if I'm not even worth a fight anymore?’ _

As soon as the thought came, he did start giggling.

“They're not real!”

He could hear the door being unlocked.

One last chance.

“Bruc–”


	8. My nemesis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on prompt #77.
> 
> Pure crack, no substance whatsoever, what even is plot?
> 
> On the plus side, the characterisation is possibly the closest I've ever gotten to that in the Lego verse.

Bruce couldn't sleep. You'd think that might be because of the insomnia he had developed because of his crime-fighting alter ego, or even because dark thoughts were plaguing his mind.

Alas, it was neither of the above.

_ My neme, neme, oooo... My neme, neme, neme.   
My neme, neme, oooo... My neme, neme, neme. _

The millionaire groaned, burying his face into the pillow, trying to muffle the obnoxious noise, to no avail.

_ I used to sit alone doin' evil all day, _

It was the blasted music. From a children's show, no less.

_ But now I think there's someone gonna get on my way, yeah,   
There's someone in my life that does'nt want me to exist, _

“Yeah, you got that one right,” muttered the vigilante under his breath.

__ My neme, neme, oooo... My neme, neme, neme   
And I feel fine cause I've got a nemesis.   
My neme, neme, oooo... My neme, neme, neme

He could practically hear the mad cackles.

_ And I hate him, and he hates me,   
What a wonderful animosities, _

‘Why yes, you've said that over a thousand times, I've admitted it, we are dating, please tell me why the hell you're doing this,’ thought the tired man to himself.

_ Besides his hat he wears no clothes, _

“Joker, it's three in the morning!” he finally couldn't help but scream.

Naturally, the volume went up.

_ Now I have someone to oppose... _

What had he done to deserve this torture?

_Cause I've got a nemesis!_

Good thing he loved that idiot clown, otherwise he might have been forced to kill him.


	9. I have a confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on prompt #266.
> 
> This is actually Lego verse characterisation, would you look at that!
> 
> It's just humour. Not even dark. I wasn't sure that I was even capable of writing such a thing.

Bruce was worried. No, that wasn't the right word, he was the Batman for God's sake, he didn't get nervous! He was just… wary.

See, he might have done a thing. A somewhat bad and stalkerish thing. In his defence, the Joker was still a big problem at the time, so he needed every advantage he could get. The fact that he hadn't removed it after the two of them got together was of no consequence.

_ 'So how do I go about telling him about…’ _

“Hey Brucie.”

The vigilante nearly jumped out of his skin, so startled he were to suddenly find himself face to face with the clown himself, and couldn't help but scream “Joker!”. Not that he would ever admit to such a thing. Batman didn't scream. He wasn't some sort of a teenaged girl!

The man in question just stared right back at him, expression bemused, though his eyes betrayed that he was literal seconds away from laughing out loud. Deciding to spare himself the sight of his greatest enemy mocking him for who knows how long, he hurriedly started to talk.

“I have a confession to make.”

The other just raised an eyebrow at that. Bruce could feel sweat covering his face. He really wasn't ready for this conversation.

After a few minutes of the two of them just looking at each other, the criminals brow climbing higher and higher until it had nearly disappeared into his hairline, the millionaire finally decided to continue.

“I’ve had a tracking device on you for about a year,” he rushed out. Blunt was good. It usually worked when fighting your enemies. Except this wasn't really a fight. But the principles ought to be the same, right?

The clown's eyebrow had finally stopped trying to escape his face, thank God. He had yet to say something though, which was never good. Usually the trouble was in getting him to shut up.

And as Bruce anxiously awaited– _no, not anxiously, this was just regular waiting, he was Batman damn it_ –after a few moments of blessed silence, the Joker opened his mouth to deliver judgement and–

And promptly dissolved into laughter. Now it was the vigilante's turn to be bemused.

“Y-you, ha-ha, y-you are j-just so, so precious.”

After this opening statement, the maniac doubled over with mirth, having lost all ability to speak.

After nearly five minutes filled solely by the mad cackles of the trickster and Batman's brooding aura, the clown succeeded in regaining control over his vocal cords, and after straightening up and coughing a few times to clear his throat, he said as calmly and seriously as he could:

“I have a confession, too. So do I.”

“Oh,” was all Bruce could say.

“And you do realise that I knew that you've bugged me for months now, right? You can't have possibly been able to find me this fast without some outside help and Harley ain't a snitch, so… Kind of obvious.”

“Oh.” It seemed that was all the millionaire was capable of saying now.

“Batsy, I honestly think it's high time we started working on your vocabulary. You can't communicate only through grunts and one word responses.”


	10. All it takes is one bad day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, this is based on prompt #276, perhaps slightly changed, but in my defense, forcing your thinking into a certain direction stunts creativity. Either way, I have mostly followed it, BUT – this chapter has some serious warnings, please go through them first, and skip the chapter if you find any of the subjects triggering.
> 
> WARNINGS:  
> 1\. Strongly implied suicide  
> 2\. Ambiguous ending, possible suicide  
> 3\. Major character death and possibly another major character's death.  
> Note: I wound’t say that it is graphic, but I do believe that it still warrants a warning.
> 
> Considering how dark this fic is, I have to say that this in no way fits the mostly light-hearted atmosphere of the Lego verse, so beware.

A lone figure, as if cut straight out from the pages of a mythical book, stood in the center of the street. The person in question barely noticed the rain soaking their clothes, or the sound of sirens wailing and people yelling, or the people running by him haphazardly.

The man, for that's what he was despite appearances, stood, as if frozen in place.

Bruce felt… strange. Numb. Like he had spend too much time submerged in freezing cold water.

The vigilante didn't move as a pale bloodied body was lifted up from the ground and onto a stretcher. That was all he could see from where he watched. Bruce wanted to come closer, to see if  _ he _ was breathing.

But Batman couldn't do that, could he? There was no culprit to catch. What would justify his worry for the monster that ruined so many lives? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.  _ It shouldn't hurt this much. _

And so he waited while the criminal was rushed into an ambulance.

Waited until the police was gone.

Waited still, willing his legs to move.

And then slowly, carefully, moved near the spot where less than five minutes ago the prone form of a murderer lay.

Blood was splattered everywhere, though now it was being washed away by the rain.

As if nothing had happened.

As if nothing had changed.

Maybe it hadn't.

Bruce thought that this sounded like a lie.

The vigilante looked up, at the roof of the building. It wasn't that much of a long fall.

His nemesis had strived against worse odds.

And yet.

The man had usually wanted to survive. His other half.

The next morning, Joker was declared dead.

People laughed, joking that he had become his own victim.

Next week Bruce Wayne was declared missing.

Nobody cared.

Nearly a month later, Batman was presumed dead.

Everyone was glad.

> _ “What would I do without you.” _


	11. The Multiverse Conundrum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on prompt #278.
> 
> This is crack. Treated seriously. I was going either for a full-on crack or something completely serious. Instead, this happened.

Bruce had just returned from a patrol, climbing through the window of the master bedroom since he was Batman and Batman didn't do unimaginative entrances. His gaze locked on the purple-clad figure seated on the bed, back against the headboard.

The man in question seemed to be deep in thought, looking unusually contemplative and serious. He didn't appear to have noticed the giant bat that had suddenly appeared into the room.

“You know, I was thinking–”

Or maybe he had. The vigilante should really stop consider others less observant.

“–you remember last week's mishap?”

The millionaire raised an eyebrow at that, and, while striping out of the armour, retorted, “You mean the one where an alternative version of you came through a portal and said that I suck in his universe? Because that is kind of hard to forget.”

Joker looked at him flatly before stating, “You forgot Dick's birthday. After repeatedly being reminded about it, every day, for two weeks, by nearly twenty people–”

Bruce let out a groan, putting on a bathrobe.

“–let me tell you, honey, I have faith in you.”

The clown ignored the dirty look thrown at him by his boyfriend, as well as the mutter of “His obnoxiously purple hair was almost as annoying as your green one, one doesn't simply forget such painful brightness”, and continued:

“So. The multiverse theory suggests that anything can  _ and _ is happening, correct.”

Bruce looked at him dubiously, trying to figure out where this was going. “...Yes… But I'm not really sure why we're discussing this, thanks to the Jokester we know only of  _ one  _ alternative Earth.”

The clown grinned at him. “Ah, but see, scientifically speaking, it is in fact very likely for the multiverse theory to be correct, definitely more likely than just one other alternative world.”

The millionaire grimaced and mumbled, “Oh great, an infinite number of you's, I feel sorry for everyone, myself included.”

“Shut it Batsy, you know you love me,” snapped Joker, though his words were without bite. “So anyway, assuming that this theory is correct, that would mean that there is a universe where it isn't true,” finished the trickster with a self-satisfied smirk, fully aware of the headache he was kindly bestowing his partner with.

Bruce exhaled, slowly, before calmly and clearly saying: “Multiverse theory doesn't include paradoxical situations.”

Joker's smile widened. “I suppose that's true–”

The Bat almost thought that was going to be it.

“Except in the universe where it does!” finished the criminal.

Good thing Batman wasn't hopelessly optimistic, otherwise this finale would have absolutely crushed him. That isn't to say that it didn't hurt him.

“I’m having an aneurysm.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jokester is a canon DC character in the Batman universe who appears briefly in a few issues of a comic which name I keep forgetting. It might have been "The Countdown". Or at the very least "countdown" is part of the name.
> 
> Anyway, the Jokester has slapped colour schemes with Joker, meaning he has purple hair and eyes, and a green coat. He is the hero in his universe, fighting against his nemesis Owlman (Batman) and the Crime Syndicate (Justice League).
> 
> He is still crazy, though less so than the Joker (and less murderous), though just as obsessed with his main nemesis.
> 
> Enjoy this far too long explanation of the fleeting references to the Jokester (somebody stop me).


	12. Identity Issues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on prompt #285.
> 
> So. I don't even know. Suggestive themes I guess. ';-)
> 
> Nothing inappropriate though. In terms of reading. Actual visual might be at that one point.  
> (Good thing this is written work...)

Batman was happy. He had a family now, and finally, _finally_ , got together with the persistent clown. Who would, at every opportunity he got, remind him of how they would've been together for much longer than just two months, if the vigilante weren't so busy being in denial of his being human, and thus having feelings.

Naturally, Bruce was kind to remind him that part of the problem was Joker's penchant for blowing buildings and people up. The unrepentant trickster simply said, “Well, would you have loved him, were I different?”, before cheerfully waltzing out of the empty warehouse.

The millionaire shook his head at the memory. Honestly, he would rather enjoy _that_ , despite what J thought. On the other hand, there were some conflicts that were so pleasantly resolved with anger was involved –

Bruce snapped out of his daydream, as he collided with someone walking in the narrow alley.

“Ah, sorry for bumping into you Mr Wayne,” said a familiar voice. “I should pay more attention to my surroundings, it would seem,” he smirked. “And oh, what beautiful sights there are, all around!”

Bruce tried valiantly to hide his blush, succeeding only to a point, retorting, “Uh, no problem.”

The clown's grin widened, and, somehow, they found themselves pressed together in a darkened alleyway, mouths moving against each other's, hands roaming freely. Just as things started to get heated, the prankster pulled away, breathing heavily.

“See you around, handsome,” said the clown with a wink, before walking away with a spring in his step, leaving the other man all winded up.

And that is when Bruce realised. _Joker didn't know that Batman was Bruce Wayne._

_________________

The first time the vigilante saw the criminal after the fateful encounter, he punched him in the face. In his defence, the Joker _had_ just robbed a bank.

“Ow, what has gotten into you Batsy?”, complained the clown.

Bruce should really consider wearing something that covered his entire face instead of just the upper half. He knew that the trickster wasn't referring to the punch he had just received.

He growled.

Joker's expression twisted into a grimace. “You know, I can speak _a_ _lot_ of languages, but frankly, this ain't one. You might want to try English. Or perhaps French? Or just literally anything but this?”

“Bruce Wayne.”

The clown stared at him in confusion.

Batman glared.

“...Yes..?”

No clarification was forthcoming.

“...Is there any particular reason you're saying your own name or..?”

The Dark Knight gawked. “Wait, how did you –”

His question was cut off by the criminal’s laughter.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” he managed through his cackles, having seen the dirty look his boyfriend was giving him. “P-please continue, don't mind me.”

“I thought you believed he and I were roommates!”

“You know, you kind of sound like _you_ believe you're different people, you might want to seek someone out about it..,” said the trickster, smile never leaving his face.

Hearing yet another growl coming from his partner, he let out an exasperation sigh. “Yes Brucey, I knew who you are for a while now. By ‘a while’, I mean three weeks.”

The millionaire finally felt some of the tension leave. But there was still something he couldn't understand.

“How did you figure it out?”, he asked curiously.

“It was obvious sweetheart, the only reason I hadn't figured it out sooner is because never before have I actually _wanted_ to know.”

“Oh.”

“Not to worry though, you're nowhere near as bad as the Super _idiot_ . He shows his face on TV all the time and doesn't wear a mask when going out to fight. I don't think he quite grasps the meaning of a 'secret identity’. On that note, doesn't it make you sad and worried for the fate of humanity when you think about how very _few_ people have figured it out? I mean, h–”

His rant rant was interrupted by the soft but insistent press of lips against his.

The Joker smirked. He sure had a _very_ fun night ahead of him.


	13. J, no

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops. This is old. Really old. Clearly, I had managed to forget to post it.
> 
> Based on prompt #17, humour.

“No.”

“Wha–”

“We don’t play jokes on Alfred.”

Joker stared incredulously at his bat-friend, all the while attempting to yank his hand from the other’s grip.

“Uh-huh, may I ask why, or is this also something we don’t do?” asked the clown with a particularly annoying tone of voice.

Bruce, not falling for the criminal’s jab, solemnly stated, “Because last time me and Dick tried to prank him, we kind of started a two on one war, and we may have lost. Badly.”

Joker, finally managing to free his hand, just looked at him with an impressively deadpan expression, proclaimed, “Okay, there are several wrong things with that sentence: One, it’s ‘Dick and I’, not ‘I and Dick’–” ignoring the millionaire’s angry muttering about grammar not being of any importance to anyone, he continued, “Two, did Batman just admit to having lost? In a battle? Is the end upon us, or did you just try some of my medication? Those can make you say the strangest things–”

“No, Bruce Wayne admitted to losing, not Batman!” vehemently protested the self-proclaimed vigilante.

“Sweety, you’re the same person. The fact that you put on a party costume at night and call yourself Batman at said time of the day won’t change that little fact.”

The man in question just glared at the 'green-haired menace’, and, perhaps with more vigor than the situation called for, asked: 

“So you won't prank Alfred, will you?”

“Oh, no, in light of the new information, my plans have changed. I intend to officially challenge him on a prank war, Alfie sounds like someone with a wicked sense of humour.” retorted the brightly dressed clown, exiting the room with a spring in his step, his boyfriend's shouts of “J, No!” not deterring him in the slightest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, something you might not have known, on occasion I just draw the prompts, for now it's just #236 and 137.  
> Now, I could post a link, but Tumblr makes doing so way too complicated for whatever reason, and it will be far easier for those of you interested in seeing those to just search for my Tumblr blog (name is 'khenq' there as well) and check out #arttagthisis.  
> They're respectively my first and last post with this tag, but there aren't many artworks inbetween, so not much scrolling is necessary.


	14. Reasons why

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on prompt #284, Nolanverse.  
> Allusions to future character death, emotional pain, codependency.

Bruce was in the hospital. Or rather, Batman was, ‘visiting’, if you could call it that. Nobody knew he was here. He wouldn't have been allowed to. With good reason too.

In all honesty, the vigilante himself didn't know why he was here. In a hospital room, standing next to the single bed in it, watching the limp figure on it. Maybe he wanted… closure.

He stared, blankly, _numbly,_ at the man in front of him. Sometimes he forgot that this _monster_ was actually a human being.

The criminal that had taken so much from him, from everyone. Someone who deserved to be hurt. And yet, to Bruce, this seemed just so _wrong_. The usually expressive face and exaggerated body language practically non existent.

Perhaps it was the way he looked now. Blond, hair, not greasy for once, face free of the garish clown makeup. Bruce noted with interest how the lack of lipstick actually accented the scars.

Perhaps the murderer wasn't as fond of them as he wanted others to believe.

He was dressed all in white as well. A far cry from the criminal’s usual _screaming_ attire. It made the man appear almost _angelic._

The vigilante nearly scoffed. _So the devil has finally decided to walk the Earth._

It was all coming to an end, soon.

Two days at most, they had said.

Bruce should have been happy. He _had_ to be happy. Not whatever the _hell,_ he felt now. It was almost like sadness, almost like grief.

He shouldn't mourn that damn creature. It wasn't even dead yet.

He shouldn't mourn the rush he got from the sick game the two of them played, he shouldn't miss his crazed _intense_ look and wide, _wicked_ , smile. Nor the demented laughter, nor the feeling of his surprisingly soft lips against his, nor the sounds he made when they _fought_ …

Bruce had lost so much already. So many people. So many constants, and God help them both–

“I can't loose you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I'm turning the two shot fic in this collection, 'Once upon a dream' and 'Once upon a nightmare' into a full blown fic, called 'Once'. There's already a third chapter, so if anybody is interested, check it out.


	15. Number Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on prompt #292.
> 
> Not my best work, but on the other hand, It was written while travelling on a train, on a phone screen, while having a headache. And there's kissing. I usually don't write kissing.

“What. The _hell_. Is wrong with you?”

Bruce tried not to yell, he really did. The only thing such a reaction to the clown ever did, was amuse him. Immensely.

The roof of the building they were both standing on mere seconds ago had collapsed. Because the Joker had decided to blow it up.

At this point, Batman really not sure  why he kept saving that nuisance. God, he was laughing. Of course he was. Nothing funnier for him than death.

Before Bruce came to the decision of just strangling him and saving himself and the police from future headaches, the Joker chimed in, still giggling.

“Do you want the alphabetical list, or the least weird to most weird list? Fair warning, you're going to regret it, whatever choice you make.”

Yes, he did regret it. Since the very beginning. He was  _ so _ very grateful that the clown stated the obvious. Bruce wasn't  _ that _ oblivious when it came to his feelings.

“Okay, so how about I start from strangest and go down from there? It will be funnier without a build up,” rhetorically asked the grinning murderer.

“Number one is: I want to go fishing with the Commish. I don't know why, I just think it would be great. Might be awkward because of certain, ah, issues we've had in the past. Like the murders. And psychological torture.”

Another round of cackles. Is he even capable of stopping? Likely not.

“Second, a crush on a guy that dresses like a giant bat. Not exactly healthy, but hey, it wouldn't have been fun otherwise!”

Wait.

_ What? _

The clown went on babbling, but the vigilante couldn't hear anything more. He just stood there, unresponsive, for well over five minutes. Of course, he was aware that his nemesis held certain, ah, _affections_ for him, but it was never outrigger stated.

Naturally, Joker was enjoying the sound of his own voice far too much to notice that the Batman was having an existential crisis.

“What are you doing –”

The rest of what the criminal was about to say was cut off, by soft lips pressing against his own, and hands wrapping around his waist.

Suffice to say,  _ that _ shut him up. After all, his mouth was otherwise occupied.


	16. Choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on prompt #306, Nolanverse.
> 
> "I'll stay, if I am what you choose."

“You know, Bat, I don't get paid enough for this,”

It has been years since the Batman appeared, and the Joker followed, in an explosive fashion. Barely anything had changed since their first fight, face to face. That wasn't much of a surprise. An unstoppable force meeting immovable object. Anything else would disbalance the order. Of Gotham. Of nature.

“In fact, I don't get paid for this at all,”

And yet, here they were know, the homicidal criminal, dragging the wounded and drugged form of the city's only hope for salvation. It was… unnatural.

“And it's not participate funny either. Or enlightening,”

But then again, every action has its equal opposite reaction. With one side missing from the equation, the other was also rendered obsolete.

“Why am I doing this again?”

If one side wanted to exist, it's in its best interest to preserve the other. Or the game would end.

Permanently.

“Ah, yes.”

Bruce, in his drug induced state, attempted to make any sense of what was happening. The Joker's rambling didn't help matters. It was as if he was responding, and listening to, some outside force. Insane. Except he said he wasn't.

He probably would never understand his nemesis' warped mind. Bruce was glad for that one mercy.

“You’re really heavy, I'll have you know. Especially with the god damn armoured. I'm surprised I haven't thrown my back out yet–”

The vigilante tuned the other out. The madman's erratic exclamations only served to make his headache worse. Not to mention their unhelpfulness. The clown had an incredible ability of saying a everything without action saying anything.

He would do great on gala's. The kind Bruce Wayne had to go to. That is, if only he could manage to go through the entire affair without killing everyone.

“It's a shame you got your yourself high. I much prefered it when we were beating each other senseless.”

Somehow, Bruce couldn't imagine the Joker staying civilized for long periods of time.

“Well, maybe it's not your fault. I did tell them that killing you is a good salutation. In my defence, I didn't think they'd still follow that advice years later. Or that they'd even come close. Losing your edge already how… bland. Don't be boring, Brucey-dear.”

The vigilante tensed suddenly, mind cleared of the haze previously engulfing it by the shock.

He just now noticed where they were. In Wayne Manor. In his bedroom.

And then, as suddenly as it had come, all tension left him. If anyone would figure out who he was, it would be the man now holding him, tugging him towards the bed. The man who new  _ him _ best. Who understood him, always. What did that say about him?

But it was… maybe not expected, but not unexpected either. It just was. As they both were.

Joker, finally having stopped rambling, clearly  _ no, not disturbed, never disturbed _ fascinated by his other half's calmness, turned to leave.

“Stay,”

_ The murderer paused in his step. _

_ “Stay.” _

_ “Are you sure you know what you're getting yourself into?” _

_ “Perfectly.” _

_ The Joker turned around. Bruce met his gaze squarely, eyes hurt, angry, and yes, yearning. _

_ The criminal nodded slowly. _

_ “I’ll stay. I’ll stay, if I am what you choose.” _


	17. In the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on prompt #272.  
> I changed it up a bit to fit the angst better.
> 
> Warnings: implied major character death, kind of implied due to canonical characterization suicide, though no actual mentions or written implications.
> 
> Yes, I am, in fact, paranoid enough to mention something that isn't really written in, because triggers are nothing to joke about, and I don't want to chance it.

_“Bats!”_

Bruce could barely hear the voice calling out to him. It sounded so familiar… Then he felt arms enveloping him, as if in a hug, and it all came back to him.

The Joker. The fundraiser. The _bomb._

And instead of trying to save somebody else, _anyone_ else _,_ he had chosen to protect the fool that had started the entire thing.

“Bat?” inquired the clown, voice sounding unusually subdued.

When Bruce's head finally cleared up somewhat, he raised his eyes to meet the gaze of his enemy, his other half.

The normally chipper maniac looked worried, and it wasn't too hard to figure out why. Assuming the vigilante looked as bad as he felt…

Breathing was becoming an increasingly difficult task, the dizziness returning tenfold.

A hand slapped him lights across the face, as it's owner told him to _stay awake._

The justice-fighter thought about the man across from him. From their first meeting, all those years ago, at the chemicals’ fabric, the fall that erased his past self, to their first fight as the Joker and the Batman, to all surprisingly _normal, domestic_ conversations they'd shared on their way to Arkham of all places, of all the jokes the criminal had told that Bruce had to stifle his laughter at because he _shouldn't feel like this. Not about him._

Bruce reached out with his own hand, gently stroking the cheek of his greatest enemy.

“I always said I wanted to change everything,” he started, voice rasping, “change you. But now… now I realise… I never wanted to change a thing.”

Bruce wanted to say more, so much more, both good and bad. But he felt _so_ tired.

The world slowly faded to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I just killed Bruce. And Joker, if your thought process is similar to mine.
> 
> I realised I usually made it so either nobody was at fault, or it was Bruce that messed up, so I thought it was time to change things up.


	18. It was the kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on prompt #321.
> 
> Warnings: mentions of mental illness, medication, etc. Nothing is graphic, as always, but if you think any of those might be a trigger, I suggest skipping this one shot.

The maniac laughed as he slung, enjoying the rush from those 'dates’ as he always did. Batman dodged the punch with a grunt. There was a surprising amount of strength in the wiry figure of his nemesis.

They've been fighting for over fifteen minutes now, slamming each other around, punching, kicking, strangling. One was cackling, a grin firmly in place, the other scowling darkly. There was nothing out of the ordinary, or at least, for what  _ they _ considered as the norm. And yet, Bruce couldn't shake the feeling of… wrongness. Something wasn't quite right. And it wasn't him that was foregoing the steps.

He suddenly grabbed the clown and pressed him against the closest wall, trying to keep him still and take a closer look. He was dressed in his characteristic, garish purple coat and pants, bright, orange shirt, green vest and tie. They looked like they've seen better days, as did the Joker's face, but that wasn't much of a mystery. He let his eyes wonder over the rest of the criminal's features. The first thing that struck him as unusual, was that the usually soft-looking green curls appeared almost straight and wet, as if it hadn't been washed in days, or even weeks, not to mention all the knots in it. It was nothing if not odd, for he had never known the maniac to start a fight looking anything short from perfect. Not that Bruce paid that much attention to these things, but they got into each others faces so often it was unavoidable.

He moved his gaze to the other's eyes, which appeared red, as if he hadn't slept in a week. Then again, he probably hadn't, the clown wasn't known for a particularly good sleep schedule. He always seemed to be out and about, wreaking havoc in Gotham and the vigilante's own thoughts.

Another thing was the lack of his usual chatter and innuendos their current position should have surely inspired. The millionaire couldn't think of a single occasion when Joker had missed to remark on anything even remotely suggestive, whether it be a position, statement, or even a heated glare.

He became so engrossed in observing the psychopath for any signs for what is wrong, that he failed to notice when the man had leaned in, it was too late. Shockingly soft lips pressed against his insistently, while he just stood there, frozen in shock, before kissing back just as needfully, the voices screaming at him not to all but completely muted, as two sets of hands wandered, touching and pressing. When he felt a tongue requesting entrance, he was harshly reminded of just who the man he was currently getting busy with was, and sharply pulled away from their half-embrace, both their pants echoing loudly in the empty warehouse.

That's when he noticed it. A pill bottle, lying on the floor. One that must belong to the Joker, probably having fallen out of a coat pocket while they were, ah, scuffling. He bent down to pick it up, still keeping himself on guard, knowing better than not to pay utmost attention on his counterpart. It was empty.

“I didn't know you took antidepressants, Joker,” he stated, voice barely betraying any of the surprise he actually felt. He knew this kind of medication was prescribed for various issues,but he couldn't imagine the clown having any of them. It just didn't make any sense.

That seemed to snap the clown out of his daze, as he practically hissed out “Give that back”, grabbing it from Batman's hand. The vigilante let him, staring at him intently.

“What are you taking them for?”

“Oh, come on, I thought you were smarter than that. Disappointing,” responded the Joker, shaking his head mockingly.

“And you're deflecting,” Bruce said calmly.

They just stood there for a minute, eyes locked as if in battle, not saying a word. Finally, the jester caved in.

“Who knows, darling. For something. It's not as if anyone has  _ actually  _ diagnosed me.”

“And when did you run out?” questioned the other.

A pause.

“Two weeks ago, give or take? I'm. Not quite sure.”

Bruce couldn't help but sigh. “Shouldn't you have gotten it filled?”

Joker laughed again. “Oh, Batsy, considering the side effects of those stuff, it's simply a choice of what kind of problem I feel like having.”

Batman briefly thought about getting the man back in Arkham, but ultimately decided against it. He tried not to examine his reasons too closely.

As he left, he was sent away by the madman's cackles.

“It was the kiss, wasn't it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... It's kind of all over the place and I apologize for that. In my defense, I wrote this around midnight while functioning on three hours of sleep, so it could have been worse.


	19. You're alright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Yay, I'm not dead!)  
> Based on prompt #348.  
> Warnings: panic attacks, emotional and mental distress, abuse (implied).

Bruce stared at the prone form of the Joker, laid in a cot in the Batcave. The vigilante was unsure as to why he had brought the criminal here, of all places, instead of in one of his less damning hideouts. Not that it was likely that the clown would so much as move, all things considered.

The billionaire pulled off his cowl with a sigh, burying his face in his hands. The past few weeks were some of the most harrowing he had ever experienced and, for once, it wasn't his enemy's fault. Or at least not in the way it usually was.

Bruce didn't really appreciate the change.

He must have dozed off, for he nearly found himself on the ground as the sound of screaming penetrated the silence.

“No. No no no no no no, you can't take me back there, you can't! Stop. Please stop. Please, no, Bats please, I can't–you can't–”

The clown was trashing, gripped tightly by panic, and God, this was the first time the vigilante had ever seen Gotham's most wanted look as genuinely distraught as he did now. The other always seemed to be in control, even when he couldn't possibly be. But this… This was raw, and uncontrollable, and it made something in Bruce tense with an emotion he himself didn't understand.

“Joker,” Bruce pressed himself against the trashing man, using his body weight in an attempt to still the clown's flailing legs and arms. “Joker. You're alr–”  _ But he wasn't, was he? _ “You'll be alright,” he muttered soothingly, trying to ignore the high, keening sounds that were leaving the criminal's throat now.

“Bats, please,  _ please– _ I can't go back, please, not now, not right now, please, Bats, Bats,  _ Bats– _ ”

Bruce rested his forehead against his counterparts in a calming gesture, repeating over and over “I'm here, I'm here, you're not going back, you're safe, _breathe_ –”

They stayed like that for almost an hour, until the Joker finally seemed to have calmed down. Bruce stood pressed against him for a few more minutes, trying to bring his own racing heart down to normal levels.

Finally, he slowly pulled away from his counterpart.

_ Time to take a look at Arkham’s files. _


	20. Mistakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on prompt #332
> 
> Warnings: a lot of sexual innuendos and implications. Nothing actually said or done, but still worth noting.

“Ha, I win, Bats!”

The vigilante growled at the grinning maniac beneath him. “What do you mean? I have you pinned to the ground.”

In response, the clown looked at him coyly. “Well, Batsy, see, this position is always a win, much more so when you're the one on top of me.” The man giggled, as he watched the Bat slowly come to realise what his counterparts words suggested, and laughed harder still as the vigilante quickly got off of him.

“You're disgusting,” retorted the knight. Or night. Either.

“Now darling, you really should have seen this one coming. You can't blame me for your boners. Or can you?” asked the criminal slyly, cackling as he saw the horrified expression that appeared on the usually stoic face.

“What–”

“Don't get your cape in a twist, sweetheart, it's just another way to say a mistake. Though by your expression I can assume that you do actually–”

“Shut. Up.” ground out the vigilante, eyes narrowed. “I don't want anything to do with you,” he stated, as he perched atop the Joker once again to secure him.

“My my, why so defensive? I just said you made a mistake, I don't see what's got you so high-strung. It's natural for people to pull boners in such situations, relax!”

When the police finally showed up, all they found was a handcuffed Joker, laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the most ridiculous thing I've written in ages.  
> Partially inspired by a comic which name I cannot remember that used boner=mistake several times a page.


	21. Nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on prompt #376.  
> Incredibly short.  
> Kind of dark?

“Why do you keep saying you hate him, after all this time?”

“Because hearing the one you love say ‘I hate you’ isn't nearly as painful as 'I don't love you’.”

“Love? You assume he loves you? How presumptuous of you.”

“He doesn't?”

“No. Love is… fleeting. And foolish. This is something different.”

“An obsession.”

“Sure. And more. His religion, the only constant in his universe, the only reason he still clings to life.”

Silence.

“You shouldn't do this.”

“Do what?”

“Don't play dumb with me, Bat. You know what I mean. Love, hate, they're all the same. If you feel nothing, just free him of his misery. Let him _die_ _happy_.”

“I'm not a murderer.”

“Murder suggests malicious intent. This is just mercy. Mayhaps it is time to stop letting the past dictate your choices.”

A pause.

“Oh, don't look at me like that. Profiling you was  _ easy _ , Bruce Wayne. And let me tell you, the game you're playing? You don't want to finish it.”

“Harley–”

But she was already gone.


	22. "Batman: The Movie", starring Bruce Wayne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on prompt 406.  
> Surprisingly, no angst whatsoever.

“Well. This is awkward.”

At the sound of Bruce's voice, Joker looked up from his book, eyebrow raised. “What is?”

“I was just offered the part of Batman in an upcoming movie,” retorted the billionaire, expression stuck between amusement and something akin to horror.

“Oh my God, really? Do you think you can handle that darling, seems like a bit too dark of a role for you,” proclaimed the clown, the picture of perfect worry that nobody ever would believe to be real. Completely ignoring the glare he was given, the criminal continued.

“I mean, you're a pampered rich boy, how would you know anything about vigilantism?” he asked, the end of the question dissolving into laughter.

Bruce waited until the giggling subsided, before sarcastically asking “Are you quite done now?”

“Goodness me, no, this is but one angle to explore! You want to hear another?” Not waiting for a response, he pressed on: “Bruce Wayne, the furry vigilante everyone wants to be. People are going to lap that up,”

”Joker–”

“Now there's a thought. Imagine if they want to show the alter ego. Imagine they make Batman's secret identity Bruce Wayne. I can almost hear the outrage. 'Wayne? The Batman? Are you insane, that guy can't even tie his shoelaces without help!’” crowed the jester.

“And the most important question, if you're cast as you, do you think they'll ask your butler to play himself too?”

“I'm  _ not  _ playing myself, I'm playing Batman,” responded Bruce, having at this point resigned himself to the mockery of the green haired menace he was unfortunate enough to call a lover.

“But honey, you  _ are  _ the Batman.”

“But not Bruce Wayne–”

“That's not what your legal documentation says though–”

“Joker, I swear to God–”

“Did you hit your head too hard or something, here let me–”

“Why are you like this?”


	23. Sugar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a slightly modified prompt #485.

As Bruce walked into the kitchen, he was greeted by the sight of Joker, who was sitting on the countertop, putting sugar into a cup of what appeared to be coffee. It was unusual, to say the least, for the clown typically chose not to stick around during the day, and had once explained, in more detail than the billionaire would has ever wanted to hear about anything, just why this specific drink is the absolute worst. Which meant something was off.

 

“Morning,” he said, as he moved closer to the other man. “Is that coffee?”

 

“Morning, darling. And yes, it is,” he confirmed, not looking up from his task. “Why so surprised?”

 

Bruce raised an eyebrow, though he knew the other wouldn't be able to see it. He simply stood there for a moment, watching, as the clown added more and more of the sweet substance in his drink.

 

“You're really asking me this? After telling me why you hate coffee for over half an hour?”

 

He could practically feel the other's silent laughter. “Well, Brucie, I'm about to pass out, so I figured, desperate times call for desperate decisions.”

 

The vigilante's lips twitched upwards, despite himself. “The solution is called _sleep_ , J.”

 

“I like my version better,” responded Joker carelessly, not pausing his activities for even a moment.

 

Bruce rolled his eyes.

 

“Don't you think that's quite enough? You're setting yourself up for a nasty sugar crash later.”

 

“Stop being so boring, Jesus, I'll add just a little bit more-”

 

And the playboy could only watch as the Joker added all the sugar that was left into his cup, wondering if he'd have to call an ambulance sometime soon.


End file.
